


Sex, Drugs, and Vampires

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Alternate Universe Collection [7]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Rebellion, Vampires, vampire!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: It’s a little known fact among humans that vampires can’t actually feel emotions. It’s important to stress the word ‘feel’ in this assertion as they can experience happiness, sadness, Love, and hate, but their blood no longer carries those special chemicals that the brain creates to speed up the heart, give humans that warm and fuzzy feeling, dilate the pupils and many other subconscious reactions to outside stimuli humans are barely aware of.





	Sex, Drugs, and Vampires

It’s a little known fact among humans that vampires can’t actually feel emotions. It’s important to stress the word ‘feel’ in this assertion as they can experience happiness, sadness, Love, and hate, but their blood no longer carries those special chemicals that the brain creates to speed up the heart, give humans that warm and fuzzy feeling, dilate the pupils and many other subconscious reactions to outside stimuli humans are barely aware of. 

Emotion, so to speak, has become a very, very profitable business. 

Vampire elite pay top dollar to suck the emotion from the source under carefully crafted circumstances that allow these chemicals to be released from stress, fear, happiness, and so on. Those who can’t afford a direct-from-the-source hit, differ to the bottled variety created special for the consuming vampire on the go. Finally, and usually as a last resort, there are the underground clubs. Though they are technically legal, there is no way for these clubs to be regulated and much of the blood supply is tainted with alternative drugs such as heroin, cocaine, painkillers, and other substances still considered illegal even in this future.

It seems like the change happened overnight, quite literally. A shift in power that saw vampires at the top and humans treated like nothing but pets, food, a commodity to be sold and shared like stocks and bonds. It would seem that the vamps finally realized that they were higher on the evolutionary chain. That was all it took. The humans gave up startlingly easy, no match for the stronger bloodsuckers among them. That's because they didn't realize just how many there were. 

They tried to fight them off and send them back into the shadows, but its been little to no use so far. Revolts and revolutions have been springing up for a century now, but none are a match for the much stronger, much better equipped predators that now were in charge. 

Humans were no longer the top of the food chain. 

\---

He stalked the city just like he did every night. It wasn't to hunt, there was no need of that anymore, but it was to find something to feel. It was like an itch he needed to scratch, a hole he needed to fill. He steps over junkie vamps high on synthetic hits, the ones laced with things only humans can experience, toward the sound of a crowd. He always liked that noise, like whispering and screaming all at once, a sound where you couldn't really make out anything specific unless you wanted to. It was a sound you could lose yourself in. That's exactly what Dean Ambrose wants to do. 

Lose himself.

Authority Club wasn't new, though the new owner wanted to pretend it was. When you've been around for as long as Dean has there really is no such thing as something new. He's seen it all, done everything, and witnessed civilizations rise and fall. Yet, in his long years, walking the streets in the open as a Vampire was never something he'd even remotely expect. 

The club itself is that cliche Victorian gothic version of what people expected from vampire decor and Dean hates it. He hated it even when he lived in London during that time. It’s too frilly, too over the top, too cartoonish, but the line at the door said it’s exactly vampires wanted to see. Maybe it was the deep reds and black velvet that evokes that old world charm that brought the vamps to the door. Most of them are fairly young by vampire standards, a couple decades at most, so it appealed to them. To Dean it wasn’t much more than a cheap amusement. The only thing they had going was the blood bank in the basement.

He didn’t even bother with the line and ignored the hisses from those who didn’t know any better. He was far older than them and there was a hierarchy of how things worked. The older you are, the more respected. Dean Ambrose was pushing 1000 years old. He preferred to keep that quiet, but some vamps could just sense it on him. 

At the door the bouncer gave him a curt nod and let him in without so much as a fuss. Inside the heavy beat of the music filled the space and drowned out most other noises. Vampires danced and fed from blood in elaborate goblets. It was all too much for him. He wasn’t here for the theatrics, he was here for blood. Special blood. 

He’d gotten word that Authority Club had just received a shipment from the rebel prisoners camp, they were untouched humans. That is a rare commodity that Dean hadn’t felt in ages. Those humans used for feeding are used to the bite of a vampire and can adjust their emotions accordingly. These, however, would be exquisite. Pure adrenaline, pure fear, _real_ emotion

Walking to the back room, Dean asked for the bartender. He was a large man, old looking for a vampire though not old by their standards. “I’m here for the shipment.”

“And you are?” There was an indignant air to his voice that Dean found both annoying and appealing. Most don't dare question him like that. Its refreshing.

“Ambrose. I’m expected.”

The man’s bright blue eyes widen a fraction, an unspoken apology on his lips as he realized his mistake. “My apologies. Right this way.”

He follows the bartender into the back where the gaudy facade of the club gives way to a more modern look. They pass through offices and security rooms to a staircase in the back. The bartender presses a code into a keypad and motions for Dean to go forward. “Someone will be waiting.”

He doesn’t thank him, just moves past him down the stairs where, just as promised, a woman is waiting. She's tall and statuesque with flowing blonde curls pinned neatly on one side of her head. Her smile bothers him though. There's something behind it he does not care for. 

“Mister Ambrose.” She holds out her hand. “Charlotte Flair.”

He looks at it and holds back the frown. “These formalities are getting in the way of what I need.”

She takes her hand back, unfazed by his dismissive behavior. “Yes, well...please follow me.”

She leads him down a hallway, one more clinical than what the rest of the building would suggest. On either side are rooms, some marked occupied. Feeding rooms. He’s familiar. 

“Our latest shipment comes from the midwest, Iowa.” she blabs on as they walk. “Many of them have not been touched by vampires. They were part of a rebellion that was taken down there a week or so ago. They cost us a pretty penny. I've reserved their leader just for someone of your status. He may be more feisty then you are used to, but we have him secured.”

“What's his name?”

She gives him a crooked sort of look like she's surprised someone would even ask that question. “Why does it matter?”

“It just matters.”

“Uh…” she looks at her phone for a second, scrolling. “Seth...Seth Rollins.”

She stops in front of a door and faces Dean. “I would not suggest an oxytocin release this time around.”

Oxytocin is the purest high, one that is sought after by every vampire on the planet, one they pay exorbitant amounts of money to taste and feel. It’s part of what Dean was promised and this time he really does frown. “That's what I came here for.”

“He is a new acquisition.”

“That your way of saying i’m not good enough to fuck him?”

“What i’m saying is you won’t get pure oxytocin, it will be muddled with adrenaline and fear. We will reserve him for your later use to make up for the mix up.Give him time to adjust.”

“Give him time to be broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then what the fuck am I paying you for?”

“The first bite.”

He takes a slow breath. He knows all too well the feeling from the first real bite to a pure human. She was right about the adrenaline and fear that floods the system, how the high can be amazing...but not oxytocin amazing. “I want a discount.”

“No. The price is set. $50,000.”

“But that's not what I was promised!”

“I promised you something special. First bites are rare now a days. Take it or leave it, Mr. Ambrose.”

He growls but she is unbothered by this. “Fuck! Fine!”

She gladly accepts the wad of cash he hands her and unlocks the door for him. “You have one hour. Enjoy.”

Inside the room reminds him of some long forgotten doctors office. Its white and smells vaguely of bleach and blood. In the center of the room is a man, as promised. He's young, perhaps in his early 30’s, and quite handsome, even if he is glaring daggers Deans way. They have him strapped to a chair dressed in matching white scrubs with a gag shoved between his teeth. He looks like any other human. “You don't seem that special.”

The muffled curse makes him laugh. 

He circles the man, taking in his scent. There is something slightly off by the way he smells. Sure, theres the typical smell of fear and anger, but there's something else, something underlying that he cannot quite put his finger on. At any rate, he walks over and removes the gag from his mouth. 

Immediately, he spits directly at him. “Vampire scum!”

He wipes his face with his sleeve. “Well, you get right to the point, don't you? Seth Rollins, correct?”

“Why do you care?”

“I like conversation. Would you rather I just tear your throat out?”

Seth glares. “You're going to anyway, aren't you? I’m as good as dead, so why don't you just get on with it?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” he chuckles. “But I am going to bite you.”

“That's all you glorified mosquitoes see us as, isnt it? We’re just food?”

“When you can only live on the blood of the living, the answer is yes.” Dean takes a step forward and tangles his fingers into Seth's longer dark hair, tugging his head to the side to expose his neck. 

Seth tenses, chest rising and falling as delicious adrenaline floods his bloodstream, and Dean grins. His smell is intoxicating, only getting stronger as the fear grows. He has to hand it to him, he’s putting on a brave front, but ultimately scent doesn't lie. 

“I haven't had the first bite of a human in ages…” he mutters to himself and leans in to the crook of Seth's neck, dragging his fangs along the sensitive skin there and delighting in the way his victim tries to pull away. 

“D-Don't do this.” Seth tries, but there's really nothing that can stop Dean now. 

The bite is a glorious sensory experience. Seth's loud grunt of pain when his teeth puncture, the flood of sweet blood filling his mouth, and the rush of feeling that courses through his veins that has him buzzing. Seth tries to struggle, which only sends more of the chemical into his blood.

“Stop! Please, stop!!” it’s desperate, pain filled, and delicious and Dean has no intention of stopping, not until he's taken his fill. 

He drinks for as long as he dare, Seth already going limp. If he takes too much, he won’t be able to be revived and it is not his intention to kill him. When he lets go, that glorious feeling coursing through him, he grins with bloody teeth and sinks to the floor in a seated heap. “You...are...perfect…”


End file.
